


And the moon reach for you

by I_am_sorry



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Anal Sex, Angst, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, There's a child too, Valeting, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-18 20:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12395634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_sorry/pseuds/I_am_sorry
Summary: A valeting omega seeks out and pays an old friend to drown his heat.





	And the moon reach for you

Ira doesn’t complain with his lot in life, he lives day by day grateful for what he has and for what it means to have it; he could have done so much worse certainly, being an omega nobody with no last name to stand for him. Society is not kind to the ones like him –the cold reality is before his master, all that ever waited for him were the slums and life serving in the whore-house where he was born out of another nameless omega, but Clarence saw something in him and from all the valets he could have picked, he choose the poorest and less refined of them, he choose Ira and for that he is eternally grateful.

Ira is twenty-five, unmated, without a last name and with a child of two years already; society speaks about him, about his lack of shame, about his work for Lord Clarence William Kaylock, about his kid. People always do that, talk and talk, especially the wealthy ones with nothing much to do. The especially vicious ones, have even come to the conclusion the father of his babe has to be Lord Kaylock, or else why take Ira as a valet at all?

Surely, Ira has heard them say: surely prim Lord Kaylock has to have a flaw, has to have that little nameless omega valet of his as his personal prostitute –and how convenient they say, Ira is of loose morals already, and easy to spread his legs, unmated and with a child.

Ira doesn’t feel bothered by it, they can say what they please –what really angers him is the mention of Clarence in all of this ill-intentioned talk. Clarence who has been nothing but kind to him, even if always politely distant; Clarence who has been through so much, being so young and already knowing the horrors of war, and the heaviness of heartbreak at only twenty.

Ira doesn’t know all the details about the second matter, only that it’s badly seen in society, that it’s utterly impossible, that the other party is a lad, another alpha just as Clarence –and that he is getting married in spring, his master said he won’t be going, and Ira thinks they should definitely go if only to spite the prideful fool that hurt Clarence so bad.

Whatever they think the gossipers and old matrons of the ton, the truth is way simpler and way less surprising than what they may think –he was a stupid lad of twenty-three years who fell in love, had an unsuppressed heat, and then had a child.

No. That’s a lie.

Ira had always been in love, had always hoped to spend a heat with the man he loved and had a child with him. Ira had always known his feeling were unrequited.

But when you live in the poorest part of the city, and try to eat out of what you steal –thinking maybe this will the day you will finally give up and sell the last thing you have, your body and pride… there are some truths that are better left well alone.

Ira met Marion when they were eight.

Lovely Marion Hill with his golden hair and light blue eyes, as pretty as any doll Ira had ever seen in the hands of young wealthy misses –stealing food just as good as Ira kept quiet, which was to say, not very good at all.

Marion had been offended when Ira had told him, he could show him to steal better, had left in an angry storm –but after starving for two full days, he had come back hunched like a kicked dog asking for help.

They had remained together since then. Ira had fell in love with the years or maybe he hadn’t, maybe he had fell in love in minutes under the moonlight seeing Marion laugh in one of the most precious things Ira had ever stolen, a single moment.

And then they had reached fifteen and Ira had fallen sick, had gotten pale, thinner and delirious with fever –they had needed a doctor, medicines, food to stop the illness before it was too late. They had needed money and in the end there had only been one easy way to get it.

“I am off to an errand today,” Ira says.

Clarence nods, not really listening -he is as always busy with his papers, books, and the management of the state.  

“Make sure you eat what I left ready for you,”

Clarence nods distractedly once again, and Ira shakes his head –sometimes his master is impossible. Ira will have to probably come home to feed him himself, but that is not such a heavy task, just part of his work as a valet, and as a friend.

“Do be careful with _him_ ,” Clarence says quietly just as he is about to go.

Ira dips his head.

“I will look after Avery until you come back.”

“Thank you,” Ira thinks of his little innocent child, curled upstairs in his bed, sleeping peacefully –and of all of what he owes Clarence, maybe his biggest debt is the patience and affection the quiet alpha has showed his son. Ira won’t ever be able to repay him. “Thank you Clarence,” he repeats and then he goes.

\---

The whore house has not moved up so much in the social ladder than it looks fancy –but it has improved, at least it doesn’t look as shady now.

As he sits and waits for someone to come ask him ‘What he would like tonight?’, he can’t help but wonder how different it could have been their luck? Their life? If only he hadn’t gotten sick back then.

“What can we do for you tonight sir?” A pretty beta lassie with too much make up, asks him when it’s finally his turn.

“I would like Marion,” Ira says swiftly.

She nods. “How long?”

Ira swallows and wonders what the beta lass must be thinking about him, being a well-dressed omega coming to buy an alpha who works mostly as an outlet for another alphas –with deviant needs like… no, it would be unjust to call Clarence deviant…

It doesn’t work that way. Ira is just bitter, that’s all.

“The whole of the night,” He says and thinks how when all is say done, he has to thanks Clarence for this too, because it’s his money the one Ira is spending –well-earned yes, but somehow still Clarence’s money.

The beta miss smiles. “This way then, follow me sir.”

She takes him to standard room where they attend customers, a little box in the upstairs of the house in shades red, with a bed, a window, and a chair. It’s not much, but it will do for the night.

“Marion will be here shortly.” She says and then leaves Ira alone with his thoughts.

Marion doesn’t make him wait much; he enters the room after only some minutes of waiting –he is dressed nothing at all like the other whores, not provocative clothing, vivid colors or make up, just some well used trousers and a slightly old white linen shirt. He looks like a low class worker and nothing at all like a whore. He looks beautiful, same golden hair and same blue eyes, and Ira aches at the sight of him.

“Your alpha is a strange one; he dresses you finely and gives you money to come pick up a whore.” Marion says as first greeting.

Marion, as all the others, thinks Clarence is his alpha –Ira doesn’t tell him he is wrong, there’s no need and Marion wouldn’t believe him anyway.

“Have you eaten yet?” Ira asks, Marion is big, and tall –as any other alpha- but to Ira tonight he seems too thin, almost frail.

Marion shrugs. “Just a bit.”

Ira thinks, ‘just a bit’ means ‘nothing at all’.

“I can ask for them to bring us dinner,” Ira offers. “It’s on me.”

Marion looks assessing at him for a while, and still a good distance away, in the end he shrugs again, nodding. To any other it may look like Marion doesn’t care, but not to Ira, not to him that has known Marion all his life, and has been witness of Marion stubborn sense of self-pride. To have accepted his offer of food means, Marion is hungry, starving probably --maybe not having eaten for days.

After they are done with the food, Ira supposes there’s nothing else to do but what he came seeking.

They are both sitting in the bed, and Ira sighs –his cravat feels too tight around his neck. “I am in heat,”

Marion looks at him, with unreadable light blue eyes. “I know, I can smell it.”

This time is Ira who shrugs. “I ran out of suppressant tea.”

That’s another lie, and this one the both of them know. Every once in a while Ira says he runs out of suppressant tea even having full stock of it, every once in a while he comes to this house to spend a heat with Marion, careful of not getting knocked up again –even if Marion doesn’t know Avery is his. Ira doesn’t even know if Marion is even aware Avery exists.

“How would you like me?” Marion asks all professional.

And Ira could ask many things, could ask for Marion to bend over and let himself be fucked by an omega -and he would do it, because Ira owns him for the night- but that isn’t what Ira wants, what he needs.

What he needs is, his mate -because his fool heart decided Marion was his mate, no matter what Marion thought about this- to hold him, and to claim him. To be accepted by Marion if only for a night, for a little while.

“I want you to h-have me,” Ira can bring himself to say the word ‘fuck’ out aloud.

Marion just looks at him curiously again, but doesn’t comment on it, just grunts a short “As you wish.”

And then Ira closes his eyes and waits for it to happen, with an uneven breath and a pounding heart.

\---

Marion is gentle with him, unbelievable gentle, tending to him with hands and mouth at first –Ira doesn’t know why.

Ira’s lashes flutter and he sighs as Marion sucks carefully on one of his nipples, and then goes to other one as well, leaving the buds awfully hard and red thanks to his attentions. Marion caresses his sides, his ribs, and his thigs and follows every touch with a kiss. It’s sweet and Ira wonders if he does this for other alphas, if he does it for other omegas, if is it just how Marion is when he is being intimate.

Ira wonders many things as Marion takes his length on hand, with a lump on his throat and wanting to cry.

Marion strokes him softly, teasing him with the heat of his mouth and Ira moans, arching his back and asking silently for more. It’s a maddening sort of pleasing torture and only when Ira is mindless with pleasure; already so wet he is staining the bed sheets, only then, Marion stops.

Ira is flushed red everywhere and smells like sugar burnt –it means arousal, it means wanting, it means he is ready for anything Marion may want to do to him.

Marion scents him, inhaling deeply and already licking at his neck. Ira wants, have always wanted for Marion to bite him, to claim him as his but Marion has never done it –only little nips that leave Ira wanting, and hoping for things that are never to be his.

Marion takes him as he has done everything else, just as gently, coaxing him open little by little –making him gasp and twist under him. It’s a little struggle until they are finally joined deep.

Marion grunts above him and starts a rhythm that is unbearably slow, Ira knows it takes great effort on Marion’s part to not just rut into him like his instinct wants him to do, what he doesn’t know is why do it, Ira won’t break if Marion is rough with him. Whatever Ira thinks, Marion does him as he wants, with unhurried sensual thrusts that have Ira keening in seconds.

Ira grabs a hold of Marion, scratches his back, arching his neck in a show of total submission. _Want me,_ he thinks deliriously with pleasure, _love me._

_Please._

Ira doesn’t know anything else after that, just Marion –Marion’s mouth on his, kissing him. Marion’s cock impaling him, and touching a place deep inside that made him yowl. Marion’s hands and Marion’s smell.

When Ira comes back to himself, he is over Marion, has spent and is fast reaching the stages of a second orgasm with Marion’s knot locked inside him, right over his sensitive prostate. Ira moans, still half delirious with the smell of alpha and the flames of his heat. Marion touches carefully his back, his fingers feel like liquid fire on Ira’s skin. Marion is saying something to him, it sounds like a lullaby or some old forgotten song, but Ira can’t understand, he is burning hot, crying out as he reaches climax again. It’s what heat is about after all; just a high fever that lasts for a day or two if there’s an alpha to drown the flames.

Ira blacks out right after his third orgasm.

When Ira wakes up next morning, his heat has gone –and he can think clearly again. He is still on the bed, totally naked with only half of his body covered. Marion is in a chair in front of him only with his trousers on. He looks tired, with red-rimmed eyes and half awake. It’s maybe Ira’s fault.

“You need to go,” Marion yawns, “The owner will be here shortly, and he doesn’t take kindly to a customer staying so late.”

Ira doesn’t know what to say, he never does the morning after. “Alright.”

Marion looks at him, and then averts his gaze, nodding. He leaves right after, saying Ira can pay in the lobby of the house. Ira knows this part well enough. It’s just heartbreak all over again, with the sun comes reality and –this reality has always reduced Ira to tears.

\---

Ira dresses quietly, efficiently, and with a heavy heart. He looks at himself in the mirror of the little vanity in the corner of the room –his red hair and deep blue eyes stark against the paleness of his skin. Ira knows, he has never looked as miserable.

It’s mid-morning, already late, and once in the lobby he stands out like a sore spot. Even the owner -a black haired alpha in his thirty years- of the house is there, looking at him with interested eyes.

Ira doesn’t say anything, just pays his fee and steps outside.

 When Ira was fifteen and got so sick he almost died, Marion sold the only remaining thing he had. He let men and women had him alike, back then neither of them had presented but it mattered little –Marion did things no child of fifteen should have done only to keep Ira alive.

He never stopped, not after Ira got better –not after he presented as an alpha.

Ira pleaded to him to leave that work well alone, but Marion always refused. Ira never knew why.

They drifted apart, no longer sharing food or Marion’s low class rooms –Ira couldn’t stand to think about how Marion paid for them.

Ira started working in any job that accepted him, loading boxes, cleaning floors, helping out a gypsy with her divination store –and then one day when he turned twenty he heard of a young Lord who had inherited early, looking for a valet. Ira went and waited with other ten men for the young master to choose. Clarence surprised him and all the others, when he called Ira out of the line and gave him the job.

Ira left the slums –and Marion remained.

“How was it?” Clarence asks sitting with Avery on the carpet of the private living room, the both of them playing with Avery’s wooden toy soldiers. Clarence doesn’t like to remember the war much, but he always plays with Avery when the child demands it of him.

Ira’s voice sounds rough. “Just alright.”

Avery perks at his voice, babbling a happy “Ma?”

“Yes love, it’s me.” Ira says from the threshold of the door. He doesn’t even try to enter the living room; he knows he stinks of a passed heat and strange alpha scent, and of a cheap brothel. He doesn’t want to scare Avery with the mixed new scents.

“Well,” Clarence says, passing Avery a wooden tank. “Go change, we have an invasion to plan, don’t we Avery?”

Clarence loves Avery just as much as Avery loves him.

“Yes,” Ira says, trying hard to keep it together.

Clarence has even offered to register Avery under the Kaylock name as his, even facing the eternal rage of Lady Kaylock, Clarence mother, at knowing this. Is all Ira could have ever wanted for his babe, and yet, Avery is still without a last name.

Ira can’t bring himself to deny Marion’s existence.

Maybe one day when Avery is old enough to take his own decisions, if Clarence offer of recognition is still standing, then Avery can choose for himself is he wishes to be a Kaylock.

“Move then, go change.” Clarence says giving him an out.

And Ira goes.

He undresses and steps on the already heated tub waiting for him in his rooms. Afterwards already dressed in fresh clothes, he picks up his dirty ones and something falls out of one of the pockets of his waistcoat.

Ira stares at the little white envelope; he takes it and opens it, it unfolds like a note, and it has a silver flower chain for the wrist inside.

The contents of the note are simple enough:

 

Happy birthday- M.

 

Ira had forgotten it was today, October seventeen, the day he had been born. Ira feels the tears running down on his cheeks as he clasps the delicate flower chain on his wrist, and just after he is done –he wishes with all his heart that whatever Marion is doing right now, he stops and looks at the lovely sun outside, but more than that he wishes for Marion to remain always safe.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is… Well, is not time and sand -but I wrote it so easily, I don't know I'm trying! and also it is only I have been obsessed with Regency and A/B/O lately. I really wanted to write something like this, so I did.
> 
> As for the story, I have some stories of similar themes in two fandoms, but I would like to think this one is different to them and stands for itself. And yes I wanted to write something short and bittersweet, so… Hope that worked.


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